The Letter
by TheMidgetBee
Summary: Tales of the young Havelock Vetinari, detailing his father's death and his first day at school. Now featuring chapter three, the aftermath of 'Night Watch'. Please read and review, all feedback welcome.
1. The Letter

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, I just like to borrow them now and then. 

Lady Roberta Meserole stared at the letter in her hand. So, it had happened. She'd warned Edward not to move against Lord Smince so soon; he didn't have enough support to overthrow the Patrician, he didn't have enough of the /right/ support. But he'd insisted that something had to be done /now/, that the city was drowning under the influence of the corrupt administration. She remembered the day he'd told her of his plan, how determined he was to do this right. "I have to do something, Bobbi," he'd said. "I /need/ to do something. I want Ankh-Morpork to be how it could be, a place that works. Somewhere I'd be proud to raise my son."

Ah, yes. His son. Madame sighed and folded up the letter. She would have to burn it later, Havelock was sure to find out about it at some stage, he always did. She would tell him the truth about what had happened of course, but that didn't mean he needed to hear /all/ of it just yet. Her contact in the Palace had been quite...graphic...about what had happened. The arrest, the torture, the show trial...the execution. No, she thought firmly, no child should have to hear about /that/. She almost wished she hadn't.

She walked out into the hall and climbed the stairs, heading towards Havelock's room. Thanks gods her brother had sent him to her before attempting anything, she dreaded to think what might have happened to the child if he hadn't. He may only be eight years old, but Madame didn't doubt for a minute that Lord Smince wouldn't have hesitated in torturing a child in order to incriminate his father. She remembered being slightly put out at the time, having her nephew just dumped on her with barely a word of warning. He had always been a slightly odd child, quiet and studious, not given to the rowdy games that other boys of his age indulged in. The first night he'd stayed with her, she remembered being shocked as he pulled out a thick volume on the campaigns of General Tacticus and proceeded to read it with every sign of enjoyment and understanding. She could picture it now, the thin little boy sitting in a chair that dwarfed him, reading a book that probably weighed more than he did.

As she neared the entrance to his room, she paused and took a moment to compose herself. This was going to be tough.

"Havelock, I need to talk to you."

Havelock smiled at his aunt as she entered his room and set down his book. He enjoyed it when his aunt came to speak to him. She was always so interesting.

Madame sat on his bed and gestured for him to come over. He did so and she put an arm around his thin shoulders. "Havelock, you remember your father told you that you were going to stay for me for a little while?"

The boy nodded.

"Well, the reason for that is...Lord Smince--"

"--the Patrician?"

"Yes. He, well, he was/is/ a very bad person and your father--"

"--Father said that Lord Smince was killing the city with bad government and that we needed to get rid of him. Father kept having people come to the house to help plan how to usurp him." Havelock interrupted.

Oh gods, thought Madame. He /knew/. He's an eight year old boy and he /knew/. Edward, how could you be so stupid? You couldn't even stop your son from finding out. "Did he? And how did you find this out?"

Havelock shrugged. "I'm quiet. And people will say anything in front of a child, especially if they think he's not listening."

Madame stared at him. "How much of their plan did you hear?" she said in a hoarse voice.

"All of it."

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. At least he sent you to me, she thought. He could have got you killed as well, that bloody /fool/. She opened her eyes again and stared fixedly at a picture Havelock had drawn of her house on the opposite wall. "Havelock, your father was being spied upon. Someone informed Lord Smince about the plot and your father was arrested."

She felt the little boy freeze beside her. She wanted to stop there, to tell him everything was going to be okay, but it wasn't...

"Your father...my brother...was found guilty of treason and was executed. I'm so sorry." She looked down, holding back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her and she tensed her jaw. No, she thought, I must be strong for Havelock; after all I'm all he has left. She snuck a look at her nephew.

Havelock was sitting perfectly still, staring blankly into space. In a perfectly calm voice, he said "How was he executed?"

"I don't think you need to know that."

"/How/?"

"He was beheaded."

Havelock nodded. That was a nobleman's death at least. Honourable. Quick. He wondered how his father must have felt on the scaffold, whether he had thought about his son.

"Don't be sad, Havelock. He's with your mother now, and they're looking down on you and smiling at how brave you're being..." Madame's voice trailed off as her nephew turned and looked at her.

"What will happen now?" he asked.

"I'll look after you. You can come and live here with me in Genua."

"No. I want to live in Ankh-Morpork."

"Yes, but Havelock, it's not safe--"

"--I don't care. It's my home and I don't want to leave it."

She swallowed nervously. "Havelock, the only way I can do that is if I send you to school there. Alone. I can't stay there right now. I just can't."

Havelock stood up and walked over to the window. "Fine. Do that. I can go to the Assassin's Guild. I would have gone there anyway."

Madame brushed out a non-existent wrinkle on her dress. "I know you're angry. And scared. But you are only a child, and I really don't think that this is a good idea. It will be dangerous and I won't be able to protect you."

"It's what he would have wanted." The boy's voice was barely more than a whisper.

Madame sighed and nodded. "Well you can't join the Guild until you're a little older anyway. So you can stay here in Genua for the time being and then when you're the right age then we'll see if you've changed your mind--"

"--I won't. If you don't mind, Madame, I would like to be alone."

She smiled sadly at his use of her title and stood up, "If you need me at all..." She walked out of the door, turning to take one last look at her nephew, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out of the window at the street below.

"I'll be fine,"

Yes, she thought as she closed the door behind her. You will be, won't you.


	2. The First Day

Author's Note: Thank to everyone who has reviewed so far, it's always good to get feedback. As far as is currently planned, this will be a four chapter story, focusing on various points in the young Vetinari's life, although if there is something specific you would like me to focus one then just tell me in the reviews section, and I will see what I can do. 

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters; I just like to make them suffer.

Havelock stepped out of the carriage and cast a wary eye over the groups of boys gathered in the courtyard in front of the Assassin's Guild building. It had been a long four years in Genua, and he had often wondered what had happened to the city while he was gone. Nothing good, apparently. Although Lord Smince had eventually been gotten rid of, he'd soon been replaced by someone just as bad - Lord Winder.

Just another stupid choice in a long line of stupid choices, Havelock thought. But at least this one shouldn't remember the name Vetinari too clearly.

That at least was a blessing. As his father's trial and execution had been held in secret, he'd simply been noted as missing, although there were rumours. There were /always/ rumours. But rumours weren't proof, and without proof there was little chance that he should have any real problems, at least with the Patrician and his lot. The nobility was another matter, though. Any /hint/ of scandal could mean social suicide in the higher echelons of Ankh-Morpork society and the small trace that could still be attached to Havelock meant he was probably going to be in for something of a rough time.

Just remember you're here to learn, he reminded himself. This is not about socialising and making friends. Friends mean nothing, just remember how they deserted Father when he needed them. He felt the old anger start to rise again, as it always did when he remembered the circumstances of his father's death, but he took a deep breath and choked it down. Control is the key, he thought, control your emotions, don't stand out, watch /everything/, and they can't touch you.

"Vetinari?" The voice broke him out of his reverie, and Havelock snapped back to attention. "Is there a Vetinari here?"

He held up a hand. "Here, sir."

The teacher looked the small boy up and down. "Are you Vetinari/Havelock/ Vetinari?" The teacher smirked as he stressed Havelock's first name, and there were a few sniggers from the crowd of boys.

"Yes, sir." He kept his expression blank but sighed inside. He'd been teased about the name for years, it wasn't anything new. If they weren't going to try anything inventive...

"Viper House, boy. Get in line."

Havelock walked over to the line of boys standing in front of the doors to the main building. There were several boys standing there already and one of them, a big lad with light brown hair and a malevolent air about him, looked at Havelock in a calculating manner. Havelock returned the look in kind, a slight smile on his face.

There was a lot to take in that first day in the Guild. There was a long and tedious tour of the building, interspersed with dull speeches about the history of the Guild. The House Master seemed to be rather bored of the whole thing, and Havelock wondered how many times he'd had to give the same speeches. After seeing the classrooms, the gym and what felt like a review of every single corner of the blasted place, they finally reached the dormitories and the boys scrambled to lay claim to the best beds. Havelock stood off the side and waited until there was only one left, a sad-looking affair stuck right by an open window that, Havelock noted, didn't look like it could be closed. He didn't mind though, he'd never needed much sleep and the cold didn't bother him.

The House Master, whose name was the Hon. Anthony Westbury, made a note of their choices and quickly withdrew to the relative safe and quiet of the staff room for a drink and a well-earned cigar. Havelock began to unpack his things, and as he did so he began to make mental notes about the other occupants of the large, cold room. The boy from earlier had claimed a bed in the warm corner opposite from Havelock's own and he was surrounded by a large group of several other students, all laughing and joking. The laughter didn't sound pleasant though, Havelock noted, they sounded like they were planning something. He didn't have to wait long to be proven right.

"Vetinari, is it?"

Havelock turned to see the boy and several others standing just behind him. "Yes, and you are?"

"Downey. You're new to the city, right?" A boy behind Downey started to grin.

Havelock eyed Downey warily. "No. I lived here when I was younger, I've returned in order to go to school here."

"Oh? Why'd you leave?"

"I went to live with my aunt."

Downey smirked. "Didn't your parents want you then? Can't say I blame them for giving you away, a skinny little runt like you."

Vetinari's eyes narrowed. "They're dead."

"Oh, well my apologies then," said Downey sarcastically. "Died of shame did they? What kind of name is Vet-in-ah-ry anyway?" He stretched out the syllables of the name, making each one drip with disdain.

"An old one."

"Can't be /that/ old, it sounds like a professional name, like Baker or Weaver or some such," Downey grinned at his companions behind him. "Yes, that's it, isn't it? Are you going to be a little dog botherer then, scag?" At this Downey gave Havelock a hard shove into the wall.

Havelock winced as his back hit the brickwork hard, then straightened up and stared coldly at Downey. "Don't do that again."

Downey shoved him again. "Or you'll what, Dog-Botherer?"

"I'm warning you."

"/You/ are warning /me/?" Downey said incredulously. He took a step back and cracked his knuckles. "I'm going to teach you a lesson in respect, Dog-Botherer…" He growled, raising his fist and stepping towards Vetinari, ready to give him the beating of a lifetime, but before he could do so, Havelock had reached down and grabbed a book out of his trunk. As Downey neared him, Vetinari reached back with the book and swung it towards Downey's face with all his strength...

"Two first year boys here to see you, sir."

Dr Follet looked from his paperwork and sighed. Oh for gods' sake, fighting already and it was only the first day... "Okay, send them in."

The two boys were ushered in and Follet looked at them appraisingly. Well, they certainly looked like they'd been in a fight, or at least the larger boy did; blood was still pouring out of his nose and there were the makings of several nasty bruises on his face. The smaller boy, Follet noted, only seemed to have a few tears in his clothes. They were probably from where Mr. Westbury had to drag him out of the dormitory to stop him from hitting everyone with that book.

"Well..." He looked down at the note he'd been sent about the incident, "...Vetinari, what exactly do you think you were doing?"

"Well, sir, I--"

"--it was completely unprovoked, sir," interrupted Downey loudly. "All I was doing was introducing myself to him, trying to make friends, and all of a sudden, for no reason, he launches himself at me, screaming that he was going to kill me! For no reason!"

Follet fixed him with a stony glare. "I don't believe I gave you permission to speak yet, Downey."

Downey looked down at the ground and mumbled, "No sir, sorry sir."

"Frankly boys, I don't know what happened and I don't care. You want to fight like common ruffians, then go join one of the street gangs." He sat back in his chair and looked intensely at them both. "You are training to become Assassins, and that means that I expect nothing but behaviour befitting a gentleman from both of you at /all/ times. Now get out."

When they had left the Headmaster's office and had safely passed out of earshot of any authority figures, Downey turned suddenly and grabbing Havelock by the collar, shoved him up against the wall. "I'm going to get you for this, Dog-Botherer."

Havelock smiled evilly, "Try it, Downey."

Downey snarled and after giving Havelock a final shove, he stomped back down the hallway back to the dormitory. Havelock smiled to himself as he straightened his clothing. Well, he thought, that certainly went to plan. He had known as soon as he had entered the line back in the courtyard that Downey had singled him out as a potential target. First impressions were always so important, he'd always thought. Well, he'd certainly proven himself as someone not to be taken lightly, and all it had taken was a few minutes of carefully calculated violence. Oh, he didn't suppose it would stop Downey from picking on him in future, and he certainly didn't care for the new nickname he seemed to have acquired, but at least beating the hell out of Downey now would give him some brief respite, not to mention a certain amount of satisfaction. And even when it started up again, at least they might remember the sight of Downey's face covered with blood, and maybe, just maybe, they'd remember that Havelock Vetinari was a dangerous person to cross.


	3. The Assassin

Author's Note: The first part of this chapter is set before the events in Night Watch, and the latter set after. It's probably obvious, but I just thought I should clarify this. Oh, and I've started to refer to Vetinari by his surname because I think its now that he truly starts to become the Vetinari that we all know and love…or fear and loathe, its up to you.

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, and I promise to return them in one piece and only slightly traumatised when I've finished playing with them.

"You want me to /what/?"

"I want you to Assassinate Lord Winder," Madame said calmly. "Or do you think you can't do it?"

Vetinari paused and took a deep breath. It was an intriguing idea, he had to admit. /Could/ he do it? "I certainly think it's possible," he said carefully. "But there is a certain amount of…risk involved."

"Of course there is, but it's something that needs to be done. The city is starting to die under Winder's administration. You've said so yourself."

Vetinari nodded. That was true at least. And it wasn't the idea of killing someone that was making him hesitate, he'd killed—no, wait—he'd /inhumed/ people before, on his aunt's orders, and he knew he was good at it, but still…

"It's because of what happened to your father isn't it?" said Madame, noticing his hesitation. "I hate to say it about my own brother, but he was caught because he was stupid. And we are not stupid people, Havelock, or at least I like to think so; we have learnt from his mistakes. Or is it that you don't trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, Madame," said Vetinari, lying only slightly. His aunt was a good person, he knew that, but he also suspected that she would sell him down the river in an instant to save her own skin. He couldn't exactly blame her for that though; he would probably do the same thing. "I just wonder if it would be possible to achieve his removal by other means."

Madame shifted slightly in her chair and gave him a calculating look. "And how exactly do you think we can do that? No, this is the only way. If we get rid of Winder, then have him replaced with Mr Snapcase, perhaps /he/ will be a ruler that will accept direction and the city will be allowed to breathe again."

"It's /our/ ability to remain breathing that I'm worried about," Vetinari snapped. "I /do/ know the way these things work, Madame. Before an attempt can be made on Lord Winder's life, you will need to cultivate support for Winder's removal, and that means voicing opinions and ideas that could get us both an appointment with the scaffold if we fail."

"Then maybe we should make sure we don't fail." Madame decided to play her trump card. "Your father would have done it."

Vetinari's eyes narrowed. "My father was tortured half to death and then beheaded, Madame. He died a broken and beaten man and I hardly think that /he/ is a good example to use of revolutionary bravery."

Madame looked shocked. "How…how did you know what happened to him? I never told you that."

"No, you left that part of the story out, didn't you?" Havelock said. "The story about the great revolutionary who was betrayed by a confidant, but still died a hero to the cause. It's a shame you left out the parts about the hot irons and the shallow cuts, they certainly made for good reading."

"How did…the letter they sent…? But I burnt that the next day!"

"Not quite soon enough, Madame. You really should have burnt it that day or at least have locked it away more securely, the lock on that desk of yours is very easy to pick, and it didn't take me long to make a copy of your correspondence." Although his tone was calm, inside Vetinari was seething; how dare she try to manipulate him like that... "As I told you that day, children notice things, and I certainly noticed you receiving a letter that day before you told me the…news. And I /knew/ you would leave something out."

Madame looked down at her hands. "I'm sorry for misleading you, but I am right about Winder." she said quietly.

Vetinari sighed. "Yes, I suppose you are. I will evaluate the situation in the Palace. I know my way around easily enough, but it never hurts to brush up on the patrol rotas and possible entry points."

Madame nodded. "I'll start to cultivate support in the nobility and the Guilds," she smiled faintly. "A woman's touch is always easier in that regard."

* * *

A few months later... 

Vetinari winced as he stood up straight and looked around the alley. Well it looked like all of Snapcase's men had either died fighting or had run away. The watchmen that were left standing were starting to slink out of the alley themselves; if the new Patrician had sent men to kill John Keel then it would not be a good idea to be seen to have been on his side at all. The Particulars may be gone, but there were always men willing to do an unpleasant job like torture for a bit of decent pay and prestige, and no one felt like being the one they trained on.

"Sarge? Sarge? Wake up, Sarge!"

Vetinari looked over to where a skinny lad about his own age was shaking the body of the fallen Keel. He was as covered in blood and grime as Vetinari himself was but even from this distance Vetinari could see the tears streaking through the dirt.

A larger, older watchman rushed over to the boy and grabbed at his arm, trying to pull him away from the corpse. "Come on, Vimesy, there's nothing you can do for him, he's dead! We have to go /now/, or we'll end up joining him!" Eventually he managed to drag the younger man to his feet and pulled down the alley and into the street.

The man was right, Havelock thought. Leaving now would be the prudent thing to do, but first…

He walked up to the corpse of Sergeant-at-Arms John Keel and looked at it dispassionately. He'd seen lots of corpses before, not least of all his own mother's and they had never bothered him; besides he knew his aunt would want a full report of how Keel died. Well, it looked like Keel had died from a stab wound in the throat, unprofessionally done, Vetinari noted, no Assassin's finesse there but it would certainly have been enough to kill him. But the wound looked…/old/. It wasn't obvious to anyone who hadn't received an Assassin's education in biology, but it definitely wasn't a fresh wound. But it /was/ Keel; there was the armour and the eye patch and everything. Interesting.

He clambered up a nearby wall and began to make his way to his aunt's house on Easy Street, musing over the events of the day as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop. It had certainly been a strange day, he thought, but one that provided some interesting points to think about. Not least of all how to explain his injuries to his fellow students at the Guild.

He reached his aunt's house and entered easily through a window she had left open for him. He made his way down to the parlour she'd met Keel in, where she sat on a sofa, a full but untouched mug of champagne next to her. She looked up as he entered the room, a tense look on her face.

"Report."

"Keel is dead, from a stab wound in the throat. I got there too late to warn him, he and his men were already under attack when I reached them."

She took in the cuts on his face and hands, the tears in his clothing. "You joined in the fighting?"

Vetinari nodded. "Yes, for all the good it did them." He sat down gingerly on a chair opposite her. "Did you have any more luck with Lord Snapcase?"

She smiled bitterly. "Lord Snapcase has decided that he will not require our counsel now that he has achieved high office; he feels he can look after Ankh-Morpork all by himself. We were escorted from the Palace grounds." She raised the mug of champagne. "Want a drink? After all, a new Patrician is something to celebrate…" she said, a note of hysteria entering her voice on the last word.

Vetinari shook his head. "I've been wondering what to say at the Guild about how I received my injuries."

"Tell them you got mugged. It's believable; the streets are still chaotic out there." Madame drained the mug and leaned back against a cushion. "We'll have to leave the city again."

"No."

"/Havelock/…"

"Oh, I agree you should leave, certainly. Snapcase has you directly tied into the plot to depose Winder and you will definitely be a target should he decided to 'reward' the conspirators in the same manner as he 'rewarded' Keel. But no one here knows that you and I are related, and I'm not regarded to be advanced enough to have completed the assignment on Winder as far as the Guild is concerned."

"It's still a risk though."

Vetinari smiled wanly. "I'm a Vetinari. If I ran at the first sign of danger I would be dishonouring the family name, wouldn't I? Besides, if I stay, I can keep an eye on things and I would be in a position to warn you should Snapcase open a commission on you."

Madame sighed. "I suppose it makes sense, but I would still worry about you. You do know that, don't you?" Vetinari nodded. "When do you think I should leave?"

"Now."

"That's a little soon, don't you think? I have to get all of my things packed up here, and I have to send word to my servants in Genua—"

"—Madame, Snapcase sent men after Keel within an /hour/ of becoming Patrician. I doubt he will take much longer to send more after you. You have to leave /now/."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, then sighed resignedly. "I suppose you're right. You usually are." She rang a small bell on the table by the sofa. A butler opened the door and Madame turned to address him. "Turner, have the coach made ready to depart immediately. It's time to return to Genua." The butler turned and left quietly, shutting the door behind him. "Well, I suppose I had better go and throw some clothes and things in a trunk, I've got about ten minutes before the coach will be ready."

"Genua won't be safe for long," said Vetinari. "Too many people here know that you live there."

"True. Well, there are other cities; although most of them lack the charm Genua has," she smiled. "At least it will give me an opportunity to travel."

"You could try Quirm; I've heard the floral clock is quite picturesque this time of year."

"Quirm is as dull as toast. Maybe Pseudopolis? There's supposed to be quite the nightlife."

Vetinari matched his aunt's smile. "Maybe."

"Promise you'll write to me? Or better yet, visit me?"

"I'll write."

Madame looked at him fondly. "I knew you'd say that. It'll probably take the end of the Disc itself before you leave this city again, won't it?" She stood up. "Well, I've got some frenzied packing to do and you need to get back to the Guild and establish an alibi. But first, come and give your Aunty a hug goodbye."

Vetinari stood up and hugged her. She was holding on to him too tightly to be fully comfortable, considering all the bruises he'd received that day, but he knew this was important to her so he let her. Finally, she released her grip and looking up at him, she smoothed down his hair and took one last look at her nephew before he left. "You look just like your father. He would be so proud of you." She coughed and walked to the door. "Goodbye, Havelock. Promise you won't forget to write?"

Vetinari paused as he climbed out the window, to turn to his aunt and smile at her back. "I promise, Madame."


End file.
